


Tracing Lines

by Fangirl0207



Category: One Piece
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One-Shot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teeny Tinsy bit of angst maybe, This is tooth-rottingly sweet I swear, Top! Sanji, bottom! zoro, sanzo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:57:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18313286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl0207/pseuds/Fangirl0207
Summary: Inside his locker, well-hidden beneath all the piles of cookbooks, is a sketchbook Sanji has been hiding from the crew ever since he first joins them. Sanji has never told anyone he draws, he's not all that good. It's just something he does when he can't sleep at night. On those sleepless nights, he would dig out his book from the bottom of the pile, sneaks quitely into the kitchen, and sits down on the corner with a pencil in hand.





	Tracing Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I write to de-stress. Not all that well-structured, characters are OOC, and many, many cliche, sappy lines ahead. You have been warned!

Inside his locker, well-hidden beneath all the piles of cookbooks, is a sketchbook Sanji has been hiding from the crew ever since he first joins them. Sanji has never told anyone he draws, he's not all that good. It's just something he does when he can't sleep at night. On those sleepless nights, he would dig out his book from the bottom of the pile, sneaks quitely into the kitchen, and sits down on the corner with a pencil in hand.  
  
In the quiet of the night, with only the sound of the sea and his pencil moving across the paper, he finds solace from all his fears and nightmares. He'll draw just about anything that crosses his mind. Mostly, he draws his nakama; Nami and Robin chatting amicably over tea, Chopper, Usopp and Luffy playing games on the deck; Franky fixing the railing; Brook delicately playing the violin; the whole crew sitting at the dining table, excitedly exchanging the story of their day with one another as they wait for him to serve dinner.  
  
Currently, the drawing he's working on is one of Zoro. He never drew the swordsman before. Not before Thriller Bark. Thriller Bark marks the change of their relationship. It's where Sanji realizes that Zoro is not as self-centered as he thought he is. It's also where he starts paying more attention to him as a nakama.  
  
It's amazing how much there is to notice about Zoro, once he looks past his arrogant face and manlier-than-thou attitude. For instance, his eyes is golden, speckled with dark brown spots. It reminds him of honey and liquid amber; pleasant, sweet, warm. He has lost count of how many times Zoro has caught him staring into his eyes. It should have been weird, but strangely, it's not. Whenever he catches Sanji staring, he simply holds his gaze until Sanji is broken out of his trance by the ding of the oven or the sizzling of the food on the pan.  
  
He also has a warm smile. Sanji never noticed before, clouded as he was with his annoyance for the prick. But the other day, he saw Zoro smiling at some stupid shit Luffy has pulled off, and Sanji couldn't help but to stop and stare. Unlike Luffy, his smile is not broad, boyish, or mischiveous. Unlike Usopp or Chopper or Franky or Brook, the sound of his laughter doesn't come from deep within his belly. No, his smile is less apparent. Just a quick upturn of the corner of his mouth. And when he laughs, it's only with a barely noticable, slightly louder exhale of air through his nose. But his eyes. Gods, his eyes; the liquid amber shines with fondness and mirth when he smiles, radiating an intimate warmth that makes Sanji's heart clench with just how beautiful he is, and he can't help but to think to himself; _how was I so blind?_  
  
He can't compare with Nami or Robin, of course. They're women; infinitely more delicate and lovelier than he will ever be. But Sanji isn't blind. He knows beauty when he sees one, and Zoro can be aesthetically pleasing some times.  
  
He lets his pencil glides on the paper, tracing the invisible lines of the shape of Zoro's eyes, his well-defined jawline, and the small upturn of his lips. When dawn approaches, he finishes the drawing. Putting his pencil aside, he holds the drawing at arm's length to inspect it.  
  
No one should ever see this, is the first thought which runs through his head.  
  
If they do, Sanji doesn't think they'll be able to miss the feelings Sanji has poured into this pencil drawing, bleeding out from every single line.

* * *

Zoro mostly spends his day in the crow's nest to train. Sanji always sends either Chopper, Usopp or Luffy to call him for meals or snacks. He always comes to the kitchen bare-chested, skin and hair glistening with sweat, a while towel slung over his neck. Sanji will usually tell him to go take a bath before stepping into kitchen, but he never listens to him, saying he'll get sweaty again later anyway, shitty cook, so what's the point?  
  
That afternoon, he comes into the galley late. Everyone has started eating lunch when the door to the galley swings open. Sanji turns, ready to tell him to go take a bath first, but the words are lodged in his throat when he sees him. This isn't the first time he has seen Zoro's bare chest, the brute likes to go around shirtless on the ship, but this is the first time he notices the scar on his chest.  
  
They're jagged and uneven (Johnny and Yosaku weren't the best surgeon around) going from a point slightly below his collarbone and above the heart, diagonally across his chest, and abruptly stopping over his hip bone. On any other person, the scar would look hideous, but Zoro wears it exceptionally well. Like a badge of honor. An embellishment. He tries to imagine him without the scar, replacing it in his head with a clean, unblemished chest, and he finds that it doesn't quiet fit him right. The scar brings out the predatory gleam of his golden eyes, and Sanji is sure he has never seen someone so dangerous and yet so beautiful at the same.  
  
He's snapped out of his trance when Chopper tugs on his sleeve, and asks for a second helping.  
  
A couple of nights later, he sits down on his usual spot on the corner of the galley, and draws the scar-embellished predator he sees on that day. Once again, when he finishes with the drawing, he finds emotions dripping from every single line he draws. And it almost scares him, how much he feels for the one person on the ship he can barely get along with.  
  
Almost.

* * *

It's hard to talk to Zoro, and it's partly his fault, he admits. He doesn't really know how to have a conversation with other men. Men don't exchange words, they exchange blows. Or at least, that's the lesson he gets while growing up in the Baratie. It's a dominance thing, he's aware, and old man Zeff is all about exerting dominance in his kitchen. He doesn't begrudge the old man, his lessons is what keeps him alive today. But sometimes, he looks at Luffy stupidly laughing with Zoro, Zoro looking at Luffy with fondness in his eyes, and he feels a pang in his chest.  
  
He wants to have that easy relationship with Zoro too, but he doesn't know how to exchange words or jokes. Doesn't know how to start a conversation without making snarky comments. Doesn't know how to approach him with a smile. All he knows is how to exchange blows and threats and insults. And that's what he does.  
  
Sanji sweeps his feet, and Zoro falls onto his back with a grunt. Seizing the chance to claim his victory, he grabs the marimo by his neck, further pinning him down to the ground, and gives a light squeeze, "Check mate." he says with a victorious grin, his breathing labored. Zoro's eyes are wide with surprise, but honestly, he shouldn't have been. It's foolish to challenge Sanji to a hand-to-hand combat. Without his swords, Zoro can't keep up with him.  
  
Quickly, Zoro grabs his forearm and gives a hard tug, trying to yank his hand away, but Sanji's hand remains steady on his neck. His eyes further widens, and perhaps he realizes that despite Sanji's claim that he doesn't like fighting with his hands, that doesn't mean that Sanji can't break his enemies neck with them. He just chooses not to.  
  
Zoro swallows, and Sanji can feel his adam's apple bobbing up and down. It must have been painful for him, he thinks. So he loosens his grip, ready to get off of him, when his eyes meet Zoro's, and then he realizes that he has never gotten the chance to be this close to Zoro before. He stares down at the face looking up at him with amazement, drinking in the sight of his smooth skin and sharp cheekbones, the shape of his nose and the curve of his chin. He savors the feel of heat blooming from his chest, slowly spreading out to his fingertips, as he looks into those liquid golden eyes, which seems to be melting him from the inside out.  
  
He doesn't know what got into him, but suddenly, he brought his other hand up and traces a line along those sharp cheekbones and his strong jaw, his eyes following the movement of his fingers with an intensity that even surprises himself later when he thinks back to this very moment. If Zoro's uncomfortable with this, he doesn't say anything. Sanji selfishly interprets his silence as consent, and further traces his finger down to his chin, ghosting his thumb over his parted lips. Surprisingly, they're soft under his thumb. He will never get another chance like this, a small part of him says, and with a renewed thirst, he drinks in the sight of Zoro's face, committing every line, every sensation he feels on his fingertips, into his memory. He doesn't want to forget any of this.  
  
The spell over him is immediately broken when Brook suddenly walks by and deliberately asks them if he's interrupting something. He jumps to to his feet, mutters a half-assed excuse about needing to check the washing machine, before he beats a hasty retreat.  
  
That night, he doesn't have nightmares, but he pulls out his sketchbook and draws Zoro's face anyway. As the pencil steadily traces the line of his lips, it dawns on him that his fixation on Zoro is not normal.  
  
He promises himself that this will be the last time he'll draw him.

* * *

Their relationship shifted after that sparring session, despite Sanji's best effort to pretend that nothing has happened. Surprisingly, it's Zoro who starts acting differently around him, even though Sanji has expected - hoped - that he wouldn't. In the past few days, he has caught the swordsman's gaze lingering on his hands, and Sanji immediately understands what's going on through his mind. He's as fascinated with his hands, as Sanji is with his eyes.

He wisely decides not to say anything about it.  
  
There's tension in the room whenever it's just the two of them. It's apparent in the way his gaze lingers on Zoro's face, and the way Zoro's hand slowly brushes against his own. This tentativeness grates on his nerves, yet at the same time, he's too afraid to take the leap of faith. What is beyond this lingering gazes and casual, acccidental touches? He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to find out. He's not interested in Zoro that way.  
  
And judging from the way Zoro never takes the leap of faith either, Sanji knows he thinks the same.  
  
And so they're stuck in this frustrating limbo, until Kuma splits up the crew.

* * *

When they meet again, Zoro has lost one of his eyes. He feels anger burning low in his chest, but he carefully keeps it under cover, feigning indifference, pretending that he doesn't mourn the loss. He does, but surprisingly, not for long. Just like the scar on his chest, Zoro wears this one well too. It complements his wolfish grin, his predatory streak. He's looks dangerous two years ago, but now he looks downright _lethal_. He looks so aesthetically pleasing, that Sanji suddenly has the urge to draw him again, his promise to himself two years ago already forgotten.  
  
That night, after everyone has gone to bed, he goes to the locker room to retrieve his sketchbook. He's shocked to find that it's placed on top of the pile of his cookbooks instead of at the bottom. Someone has been going through his belongings, and someone has seen his drawings. The realization makes his heart skips a beat.  
  
He reaches out for the sketchbook and flips through the pages. In the dim light, he can see nothing out of the ordinary. Everything is as it was when he last saw it two years ago. The question of who has gone through his belongings still runs through his mind as he makes his way to the galley. A few paces away from the entrace though, he notices someone else's presence in there.  
  
It's Zoro, he can tell.  
  
His first instinct is to turn away and go someplace else, because he doesn't want Zoro to catch him with the sketchbook. But then he realizes that Zoro has gotten out of bed shortly after he does, and then waits for him in the galley because he wants to talk with him. Sanji glances down at the sketchbook in his hand. He thinks he knows who has gone through his belongings.  
  
Cold rage simmers in his belly. Zoro has no right; he has no right at all. This is a gross invasion of privacy, and he won't let slide. So fueled with these righteous thoughts, he walks up the galley and swings open the door. As expected, Zoro is waiting inside, arms folded as he leans back against the counter. The moment Sanji opens the door, he lefts his gaze off the floor, and their eyes meet.  
  
Sanji closes the door behind him, a long speech on privacy already on the tip of his tongue. Unexpectedly, Zoro breaks the silence first, "I don't think it's fair."  
  
His words throws him off-balance. Sanji tilts his head questioningly, "What do you mean?" Fair? What is he talking about?  
  
Zoro pushes himself off the counter and walks right into his personal space. Sanji has a mind to tell him to back off, but he notices the tender, nervous look in his eye, and it stirkes him as odd, for Zoro to be nervous about anything. What is this about, really?  
  
"Back then," Zoro says, voice barely above a whisper. His hand slowly reaches out for Sanji's free hand. "You touched my face." Carefully, he lifts Sanji's hand. "I think... It's only fair, if I touch your hand."  
  
Oh. _Oh_. He's talking about that day, when Sanji has won against him in a hand-to-hand sparring session. The day when their relationship starts being weird.  
  
Zoro brings Sanji's hand close to his face, and without any warning, he places a kiss on his knuckle. Sanji feels his stomach churning. "I think about that day a lot," Zoro says, holding Sanji's hand on his palm, using his other hand to gently trace lines along his long fingers. Zoro's fingers feel rough and calloused against his skin. "I don't understand why you looked at me like that."  
  
Sanji doesn't say anything, too enthralled by the sight of Zoro's lips hovering close to his knuckles, worshipping his hand as if it's something precious. Zoro places another kiss, before slowly, gently interwining their fingers. Their hands fit perfectly together.  
  
"You wouldn't tell me if I ask you straight, I know. You're not good with talking, aren't you?"  
  
It's a rhetorical question, but Sanji can't help but to wonder since when did he notice. He doesn't ask though, doesn't dare make a sound. He's afraid that if he does, the spell will be broken, and he'll wake up from this dream. Strange as it is, this is a pleasant dream that he doesn't mind having.  
  
He kisses his knuckle once again, his eye fixed on Sanji as he does. The intensity of his gaze makes him shudder. "I saw your drawing of me, and then I understand." His gaze returns to their interwined hands. "Tell me if I'm wrong."  
  
Sanji has to swallow before he finds his voice, "About what?"  
  
Once again, Zoro looks at him. There's a flicker of reluctance in his beautiful eye, but it's quickly replaced with fiery determination. "That you want to touch me, as much as I want you to touch me."  
  
it takes a moment for the words to sink in. But once they do, Sanji slowly puts the sketchbook he has been holding on the dining table next to them, before bringing his other hand to touch Zoro's face. He traces line over his cheekbones and his jaw, down to his chin and the brushing his thumb over his lips.  
  
A small part of him is expecting Brook, or anyone else for that matter, to suddenly walk into the galley and ask them if they're interrupting something. Sanji thinks he wouldn't care if any of them does. The whole world could collapse around him at that moment, and he wouldn't pull away from this. From Zoro. From Zoro's hand firmly gripping his, silently begging him to take the leap of faith.  
  
And Sanji does.  
  
He closes his eyes, and leans forward to kiss him. Zoro meets him halfway through, and then all his fears, all his hesitation, they're gone. And it's just this. It's just the two of them in the galley, holding hands, sharing a long-overdue kiss. Sanji doesn't realize how much he actually wants this, until he feels Zoro's soft lips against his own. It's so intoxicatingly perfect that he keeps on kissing him again, and again, and again.  
  
And hours later, as he looks down at Zoro's naked chest and freely touches all that he has been wanting to touch, he can't help but to remember the days when they were stuck in the limbo. How foolish he was, for saying that he's not interested in this. For saying that he doesn't want this.  
  
"I will never not want you," he whispers by Zoro's ears as his hand pleasures him, and just like that, the swordsman falls apart; big calloused hands painfully gripping his shoulder as he comes all over his own chest, his mouth raptuously hanging open, wordless and soundless, but Sanji hears his agreement all the same.

* * *

"I think about your hands a lot," Zoro tells him a few days later, after Sunny has docked at an island, and they have gotten themselves a room in the first inn they can find. They have spent the night exploring each other's bodies, and now, in the quiet, tender moment afterwards, Zoro has rolled to his side and took his hand.  
  
He places a kiss on Sanji's hand. "Oh, really?" Sanji asks, prompting him to elaborate. He loves it when Zoro kisses his hands.  
  
Zoro hums. "They're more powerful than your legs, aren't they? These hands, they have so much strength, even though they don't look like much at first glance."  
  
Sanji snorts in amusement, "Were you surprised?"  
  
"That word doesn't even begin to capture how I felt back then."  
  
"Turned on?"  
  
This time, it's Zoro's turn to snort in amusement. "More than I'd like to admit," he finally says.  
  
Sanji chuckles, letting an easy silence falls over them as Zoro showers his hand with kisses. He thinks, well, since they're exchanging sappy words, might as well, right? So he sits up, and straddles himself on top of Zoro.  
  
Zoro rolls his eye at him, "Give me a bit more time, perverted cook. Seriously, your libido is insatiable."  
  
Sanji chooses to ignore him as his fingers trace the huge scar on his chest. "I think about your scars a lot, you know. On anyone else, they most definitely will look hideous, but you wear it well. They make you look lethal. Sexy." He adds the last one with a smirk.  
  
Zoro huffs, no doubt embarassed, judging from the reddening of his cheeks. Sanji likes seeing him embarassed. He likes it even more after knowing that he's the only one who can make him feel embarassed.  
  
"I love your eyes too," Sanji continues, his hand moving up to Zoro's face. "They're beautiful. I'm actually pissed when you showed up after two years with only one of them left."  
  
"Stuffs happened," Zoro says nonchalantly. "I also think your eyes are beautiful. They're so blue. Even bluer than the ocean. When I first met you, I was pretty sure you were a water spirit or something."  
  
Sanji feels warmth blooming in his chest. He doesn't need to look in the mirror to know that he's blushing. The cocky smirk on Zoro's face is telling enough anyway.  
  
"An undine." he tells him. "Is that one of the reasons why you're so hostile to me back then?" Sanji curiously asks, "Because you think I'm only tricking Luffy so I can drag him down into the ocean with me some day?"  
  
"It's one of the reasons," Zoro humorously admits. "Your eyes are bluer than the sea, and your voice is so high-pitched when you scream. Pretty sure you weren't smoking cigarettes too. I thought it was some sort of magical herb that lets your stay out of the water for a prolonged period of time."  
  
"And you came up with this all by yourself?" Sanji finds it hard to believe, because out of everyone in the crew, he thinks Zoro will be the least likely to come up with such things. Usopp and Chopper, he understands. Luffy can be dense too sometimes. And maybe Brook and Franky. But not Nami and Robin. And most certainly not Zoro.  
  
Zoro quirks an eyebrow questioningly, "Can you blame me? You're too beautiful to be real."  
  
It takes Sanji a moment to process those words. it takes Zoro a couple of moments to realize what he just said, and when he does, his face burns up red. Obviously, he hasn't meant to say that out loud. The fact just further twists Sanji's heart with adoration. Gods, how can someone like him exists?  
  
"F-Forget I said that," Zoro immediately says.  
  
"Are you sure?" Sanji hums as he bends down to place a kiss on his forehead. "Are you sure you want me to forget that? I was just thinking of generously rewarding you for it, you know."  
  
That makes Zoro pauses. He seems to consider it in his head for a moment, but finally, with much reluctance, he says, "Whatever I said in this room, stays in this room, got that?"  
  
Sanji laughs. "As you wish." He places his hand on his chest again. Slowly, tantalizingly, tracing a line southward. "And now... Your reward."  
  
Zoro swallows, but he doesn't say anything. For the rest of the day, Sanji doesn't let his mind recover enough to form even one coherent sentence.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to drop kudos or comments guys! Until next time~!


End file.
